


your love, it is my truth

by wshxn



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst and Tragedy, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 01:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17777588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wshxn/pseuds/wshxn
Summary: kise is still here, alive and well and hauntingly beautiful as he is, and for aomine, it is more than enough.





	your love, it is my truth

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 10 / 19: “sorry i’m sick on valentine’s day.” / “dance with me.”
> 
>  **side note:** this needs _a lot_ of fixing and i plan to include a bit more of a backstory some time soon, maybe? i just didn't have a lot of time to do so. :( this also isn't an au i would voluntarily write, but i wanted to challenge myself. :(
> 
> happy valentine's day?

_tell me a dream._

  
  
  


they find an empty house just north of the akashi residence after hours of searching for shelter from one neighbourhood to another.

the door creaks eerily when aomine steps into the front entrance, wary of every single movement at the corner of his eye. in tow, kise clutches the end of his shirt, fingers tight around the fabric despite putting on a brave front. the furniture were covered in white cloth, dusted thick from being unoccupied for months, perhaps even years.

‘stay here,’ aomine commands kise, surveying the two-storey house for any possible disturbances, and makes his way back to the front door where kise had been with a small smile. ‘it’s just us.’

kise lets out a breath he’s been holding.

there are faint traces of life among the chaos, where a lamp flickers in the darkness and the pipes hum with running water when aomine switches the kitchen faucet on. aomine finds a glass in one of the cupboards, rinsing it thoroughly before filling it to the brim. he drops a fourth of a purification tablet from his rucksack and forces kise to drink it. ‘it’ll keep you on your toes if we’re forced to evacuate within the next few hours.’

kise eyes him warily. ‘what about you, aominecchi?’

‘i’m not as weak as you,’ aomine jokes, inspecting the cut across kise’s cheekbone with a thumb. they had run through the forest hours prior after escaping the now-infected camp they’d been settling in for a year. ‘i’ll be fine.’

there is a mild crack in aomine’s voice as he says this because had he not been alert and quick enough to rouse kise awake, they would have lost to the outbreak.

like everyone else has.

but kise is still here, alive and well and hauntingly beautiful as he is, and for aomine, it is more than enough.

  
  
  


it came like a plague.

a curse that took more than half of humanity without so much a warning; a deadly fever claiming the lives of many, the cause unknown and undiscovered as it spread uncontrollably like wildfire. many point towards the anger of a supreme being, a punishment for the greed of the human race, or the wrath of mother earth, seeking revenge for its ruin and demise.

the death toll rose by millions in mere hours, too fast for many to be given a chance to fight back, and time has run out.

  
  
  


they soon discover that there is a basement that stores cupboards of canned goods and bags of other necessities enough to last them at least half a year if rationed right, kise claims, enough to make the place a home for a little while longer.

he empties aomine’s rucksack on the floor, counting twenty-two blister packs of sixteen purification tablets each, a first aid kit, and a few items of clothing. kise calculates further and sighs with relief at the hope of survival. he has his legs propped atop aomine’s lap as he labels each can with a date to be consumed and a corresponding mealtime. ‘ah, meat loaf. would you rather have it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner?’

‘lunch,’ aomine responds, mindlessly rubbing kise’s calves as he reads through an outdated magazine. his heart skips a beat when his eyes land on a spread kise bragged about years ago. ‘i can have _you_ for breakfast, instead.’

kise gives him an unimpressed look from his chore and suddenly he looks sixteen all over again. ‘don’t be stupid.’

the casualness in the response is what drives aomine to surge forward, kissing kise senseless with urgency. kise halts from labelling in utter surprise, gasping when his lover pulls him to his lap. ‘we—we can’t—’

‘hmm, just want you close,’ aomine hums on his mouth, hands roaming about the warm skin under kise’s shirt. kise leans almost unconsciously into the touch. ‘without you, i wouldn’t have made it this far. i’m glad i’m stuck with you, kise.’

kise pulls him closer, seeking comfort and warmth in the crook of aomine’s neck. ‘you don’t really have much of a choice.’

‘wouldn’t have it any other way, regardless of what circumstance we’re in.’

‘cheesy.’ kise shakes his head, overwhelmed but tormented at the thought of the inevitable. aomine savours their closeness with a kiss on kise’s temple. ‘i love it. i love _you_.’

but he will take what he can get.

  
  
  


‘tell me a dream.’

it has been a quiet four weeks in this household, the static from the radio system deafening and uncanny. sometimes kise would sing under his breath when he thinks aomine isn’t listening; when he thinks it is exactly what aomine needs to soothe the anxiety building up inside him.

kise runs a hand through aomine’s hair, planting small kisses on his forehead while they lie facing each other on the carpeted floor. these dreams kise speaks of are figments of their what-ifs, the life they would have wanted to have in every lifetime they vow to find each other, and kise speaking them out loud like a story to be told is the way they thought would keep the hope alive. ‘hmm. a pair of feet smaller than my palm. tiny, eager hands wrapped around your finger. ocean blue eyes and hair as golden as the morning sun. it’s a boy with a smile that carries your masculinity and my impeccable charm.’

aomine laughs at the latter comment. ‘impeccable, huh?’

‘yes,’ kise laughs along, tracing his lover’s cheek with a finger. he hovers over aomine with a playful glint in his eyes. ‘he’s beautiful, aominecchi, more so when he plays basketball. and he is _ours_.’

‘sounds wonderful.’ aomine is smiling with all his teeth. ‘you would have been a great dad, but i’m betting my life you’d spoil the kid— _our_ kid, rather.’

kise rubs his nose against aomine’s in an eskimo kiss, chuckling lightly as he does so. ‘like how i spoil you?’

‘ _exactly_ like how you spoil me.’ aomine flips them over, pressing kise on his back with feverish kisses along the column of his neck, the slope of his collarbones, the curve of his jaw. ‘i love you.’

this is the fourth time he had said it today, kise notes, and as uncharacteristic as it was for aomine, kise embraces the words until it is branded on his skin because he hopes to bring them along with him until they are no more.

  
  
  


‘i found something in one of the rooms,’ aomine announces on their sixth week, walking into the living room where he finds kise curled on the sofa with a worn out novel in hand. he tosses what seems like a gadget towards kise’s direction. an ipod. ‘thought you might wanna have it. still works.’

sitting up to inspect the gadget, kise glows with happiness. ‘thank you, aominecchi. this is wonderful.’

‘th-the songs may not be to your liking, though,’ aomine stammers, a blush rising to his cheeks at being at the receiving end of such an admiring gaze. ‘but i just wanted t-to make you happy somehow, so—’

‘what’re you stuttering for?’ kise chuckles, but his chest swells with overwhelming fondness. it is moments like these that make him forget the harsh reality outside of their makeshift home. ‘you’re adorable.’

aomine growls in embarrassment before tackling kise back down on the sofa, nipping at his ear in retaliation. kise just laughs and laughs and aomine would do anything to keep this sound of tiny silver bells. ‘you’re an insufferable brat.’

‘am not. hey, i’ll tell you a dream.’ kise traces patterns on aomine’s chest, writing letters and nonsensical shapes just so he could touch him without excuse. ‘i might’ve been a well-loved prince in my past life, or a highly respected king.’

‘yeah?’ aomine’s kisses travel from the blonde’s forehead to his nose, down to his chin and his throat. kise hums with pleasure. ‘and what was i?’

‘my own personal knight. very loyal and true, not to mention _stunning_ in his uniform. sole protector of the crown by day, devoted lover by night. it’s perfect.’

‘pretty wild imagination you got there.’ aomine’s movements come to a halt when he is struck with an idea. ‘you know… we can make this place our little kingdom of sorts. you can claim your title as crown prince and i can be your knight.’

‘oh, you’re right!’ kise’s eyes sparkle with mirth and aomine is briefly reminded of why he fell in love in the first place. ‘ _our little kingdom_ . then as my first declaration as crown prince, i _demand_ your unwavering loyalty, an infinite amount of kisses, and to stay by my side forevermore.’

it is aomine’s turn to laugh. ‘i solemnly accept.’ he pulls kise to his feet, holding him by the waist as he kisses him tenderly—a vow in its own. ‘dance with me then, my prince. ‘tis a night to celebrate and remember.’

‘it’d be my pleasure.’

  
  
  


it is on their fourteenth week that kise jolts awake in sheer panic to find aomine coughing, clutching at his chest to ease his breathing in between the dry heaves. ‘a-aominecchi…?’

‘i’m fine, kise.’ suffocating fear creeps into kise’s chest, even if aomine fights the obvious discomfort off with a weak grin, a reassuring squeeze on kise’s trembling hand. ‘i’ll be fine. it’s just a cough.’

kise is not the least bit convinced because there is blood trickling down aomine’s chin with every cough, every attempt to fight the disease ending with him hunched over the sink, making an effort to stay on his feet. he brushes off every one of kise’s offer to help with a wave of his hand. ‘i said i’m fine!’

kise takes it as a clear sign that the worst of his fears is upon them. the ache in his heart crawls into his bones in vengeful grief like it had been a sin to stand against the affliction for this long. kise grudgingly accepts their fate through aomine’s denial, as he holds him much closer than before, cursing at the heavens but begging them for _more time, please, don’t take aominecchi away._

kise is not strong enough to watch aomine grow weaker and weaker each passing day, panting heavily over a simple chore of washing the dishes or climbing up the stairs from the basement; when he looks at kise with a silent plea, _please_ _don’t cry over me_ , with a smile so forced that it could only ever bear sadness and guilt and anger over what’s to come. _please let me go._

kise openly grieves when aomine holds him a little tighter, a little longer like an anchor to keep himself from drowning, from succumbing to the disease as they both cry into one too many nights, _i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry._

  
  
  


‘happy valentine’s day, aominecchi,’ kise tells him under a starless sky of a tranquil evening. he does not miss the way aomine looks at him questioningly. ‘i’ve declared today as such, as your—your crown prince.’

‘you’re silly,’ aomine’s weak chuckle turns into a cough, skin sallow and the bruises on his neck not of kise’s doing. ‘tell me a dream, kise.’

‘flower fields in the spring of our twenty-first year,’ kise sputters, heart aching and longing for someone slowly slipping away. ‘you and i lying side by side, laughing about something dumb because that’s all we’ve ever been—comical and childlike and young. you tell me i remind you of lazy sunsets and you will never tire of watching me, and i respond with a kiss or two because you— _you have always been my dream_ , aominecchi.’

‘i love you, kise,’ aomine breathes, holding onto his words like a lifeline, playing god over his inevitable fate. kise’s tears fall on aomine’s cheek like unending rain. ‘even if our days were numbered, i’d been the happiest for all this time we’ve been together.’

‘i love you, aominecchi,’ kise sobs harder, apologizing, pleading, speaking through his brokenness. _please don’t go. not yet, not yet_ —‘it’s always been you. _always_.’

‘i promise to find you in every lifetime,’ aomine struggles to breathe, his grip around kise’s hand growing weaker with every spoken word. ‘i’m sorry i’m sick on _our_ valentine’s day.’ he holds kise’s cheek, thumbing running along its dampened curves like he’s memorizing all over again every inch of his lover he could reach. ‘i lost. i lost and i’m so sorry.’

‘no, aominecchi, please! don’t go, don’t—don’t go!’

aomine smiles for the last time, and kise screams his heartbreak into a world that betrays.

  
  
  


the first bruise blooms across kise’s chest four days after he buries aomine in their barren backyard. contamination is not much of a surprise at this point, and kise only wishes to be consumed by it much faster. the nightmares creep into kise’s dreams as soon as his head hits the pillow; of aomine’s delirium under the pain burning beneath his skin, and kise a helpless comfort by his side.

the pain in his bones is agonizing, his body heavy with fatigue, with heartache over the loss and his looming end. he thinks about writing a letter to a stranger, of how the universe mercilessly deceives and how he has learned to love and love with all of himself in spite of—

but the world doesn’t deserve his words or their story. he leaves the paper blank, crawling under the sheets stained with his tears and his sorrow, and he calls out mindlessly to a person he yearns to see.

his eyelids fall heavy to the moonlight filtering through the open window, and he thinks he finds aomine standing among the fields painted blue with hydrangeas and the sky a calm yellow with sunrise. he thinks he hears aomine calling out to him, telling him to _come home, come back to me,_ smiling like he keeps all the stars in the galaxy for kise to behold. he thinks he reads an _i love you_ on the very pair of lips he longs to kiss.

and there is a hand that reaches out to him, familiar, inviting, and warm, and kise takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry.


End file.
